I swallow hard.
“Not until I kissed him.”
The silence between us fractures.
“I needed to,” I choke out. “I needed to finally get him out of my system. Out of my bones. Out of my fucking soul. I needed to see if there was anything left of us. If I’d feel something good or something bad or something familiar, anything.”
Tears burn hot trails down my face.
“But all I felt was wrong. Sick. Like I was kissing a ghost of everything I lost. I pulled away and I left him there and I made sure he knew exactly who I was before I walked out.”
I force myself to keep going.
“I hated myself on the way home. I hated that I let him touch me. I hated that I let him take even one more second from my life. Ihated that I was still trying to cut him out of me like a tumour I didn’t even know how to reach.”
My voice breaks.
“I’m telling you now because… I needed it to be done, Dane. I needed him gone. Finally. Completely.”
I finally meet his eyes, terrified of what I’ll find.
“It didn’t mean anything. It meant the opposite of something. It was me burying it. Buryinghim.”
The confession slipped past my lips, heavy with regret, the moment it escaped me. I knew it would cut Dane deep, but the pain of having home ripped out from under me hurt so much more.
“Unlock that door that you’ve locked Peach and let me in. I’ll show you what home really feels like and just how a home should be.”His resolute words stole the breath from my lungs.
Perhaps Dane could be that home. That haven my body so seeks, to feel like it belongs and not just floating somewhere waiting to find something to anchor it home.
“Have you ever listened to Taylor Swift’s song You are in love?” he inquired, cocooning us deeper under the covers, his embrace an embrace of solace. His hand found the curve of my hips, drawing me closer into his warmth.
“No, I haven’t,” I confessed, acknowledging she wasn’t typically on my playlist.
“Listen, Peach just listen,” he murmurs, reaching for his phone, coaxing the song to life. “These lyrics, Penn, they speak of us, of my love for you, yearning for you even when you seemed out of reach.”
As the melody filled the room, enveloping us in its poignant embrace, I listened, feeling the weight of his emotionsinterwoven with the music, painting a canvas of love and longing that transcended the boundaries of dreams and reality.
She’s here. I’m in her bed. My arms wrapped around her, legs tangled, breathing soft against my chest. She’s mine. God, she’s mine, but the world isn’t. Not yet. Not completely.
I should be calm. She’s sleeping. Safe. But my mind refuses peace. Blake. That fucking ghost. The memory of her lips on him, no, not just her lips, the betrayal of my fantasy, the theft of a moment I wanted for myself. I grind my jaw. My hands tighten around her waist.
I see it all, the empire I’ve built, the control I have over containers, buildings, flights, accounts and it means nothing compared to this. To her. To her heart in my hands. The power I wield, the world I dominate, all reduced to nothing when she breathes, when she moans softly in sleep, when her pulse matches mine beneath my fingers.
I hate Blake. I hate the way he touched her, the way she let him. I hate that she even needed to. And yet… I understand. I’ve waitedmy whole life to claim her, to protect her, to own the part of her that was always mine, even before she knew it.
I trace her jawline, memorising every curve. My mind races: deals, negotiations, deadlines, but all are irrelevant. I think about how far I’ll go. How much I’ll destroy. Not for power, not for money, not for revenge, but for her. For the promise that I can never let anyone hurt her again.
She needs me. She’s mine. And I will burn the world to prove it.
I imagine Blake waking to her absence, his smug smile eroding as he realises the depth of what I’ve taken from him, her untouched by his lies and untouched by his ghosts. I fantasize about confronting him. Not just Blake, but anyone who looks at her the wrong way. I want to carve a path of fire for them all.
And yet… she’s asleep. Vulnerable. Fragile. Mine. I press my lips against her temple, tracing her cheek, memorising the softness, the curve of her eyelashes against her skin. Her scent, vanilla, jasmine, soft, so intoxicating it fills my senses. Every inhale is a promise, every exhale a threat.
I’m losing control. Not over her. Never over her. But over the need. The ache. The possession. I’ve wanted this, her, forever, and now that she’s finally here, my mind doesn’t know how to contain it. My body doesn’t know how to stop.
I pull back slightly, hovering over her, watching, cataloguing. She breathes, unaware of the storm I am. I could wake her. I could bend her into my chaos. But I won’t not tonight. Not yet. Tonight, she sleeps. Tonight, I watch.
Every muscle in my body wants to claim her. Every thought screams her name. I make a silent vow: when she opens her eyes, when she wakes, she will know. She will feel the depth of my obsession, the breadth of my devotion, the fury of my desire.And she will never doubt that I will destroy anything, anyone, to keep her safe, to keep her mine.
